Patriot
by SicklySweetNanny
Summary: A cracky little bit of crack...for the craic. St Patrick's day is a fun time to be Captain America.


"So, what are the plans?"

A roomful of confused eyes stared blankly at him.

"Plans?" Steve repeated, glancing around the table in hopes that one of the other members would know what was going on. Nope. He looked back to Tony and shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head and absently chewing at the end of a ball-point pen. "We're not on call for anything today. Well, public appearance wise, at least."

Tony stood in the doorway, arms straight by his sides and mouth open, looking offended. "No plans? Nothing? Are you - is this - seriously?"

"Why, what's up?" Clint asked, pushing his chair out from the table and leaning back, one hand stretched out to rest against the edge of the table while the other tapped a tune on the arm of his chair.

Rolling his eyes, Tony walked to the other side of the room, where a large window took up most of the wall behind where Clint, Natasha and a politely puzzled Banner sat. With a dramatic flourish, Tony pulled the handle down and shoved out the window, instantly filling the room with the sounds of laughter and music from the street below. He looked to his team mates expectantly. They stared back with varying degrees of scepticism on their faces.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Um..." Clint ran a hand through his hair, appeared to think hard for a moment, then looked back to Tony and nodded. "If you wouldn't mind."

Stark let out a dramatic sigh, before leaning back against the window ledge and saying brightly, "It's St Patrick's day."

To his surprise, this revelation didn't lead to a roomful of "D'uh!" facial expressions, nor sounds of surprised enlightenment. He simply received some slightly more concerned versions of the expressions he'd already been getting.

It was Natasha who broke the silence.

"So?" she said, staring intently at Tony through slightly narrowed eyes.

"So?" he repeated. "There's a big damn parade out there, and you're holed up here talking...what were you talking about?"

"Prices for damage from last month's -"

"Never mind, don't care," Tony interrupted, earning a glare from Fury. "The important thing you all seem to be missing here is that there are a ton of promotional offers going on down there. Rhodes said he passed some guy handing out free Avenger action figures. We've got our own float!"

Coulson frowned at this, exchanging a look with Fury and muttering, "I didn't authorise that."

Tony waved a hand, a small smile of triumph on his face when Clint shuffled his chair closer to the window, attempting to peer out at the passing parade below. Steve just looked confused.

"St Patrick's day?" he asked, looking imploringly around at his team mates. "What's-"

"What's St Patrick's day?" Tony said incredulously. He stood straight and walked to the head of the table, slamming both hands down and staring the Captain down. "How can you not know what St Patrick's day is? What is wrong with you? Jeeze, man! Where have you been? Ice block aside."

"I know what St Patrick's -"

"Don't interrupt, Capsicle. It's Tony's turn to speak," Stark said with a playful glare. "Now, you hear the sounds coming from down below?" He jerked a thumb towards the window, which Clint now stood on the ledge of to stick his head out and watch the passing parade.

Without waiting for an answer, Tony went on, "That, dear friend, is the sound of everything that is right with the world. That's the sound of a thousand Irish rooted Americans celebrating their heritage and being damn proud of it! Ireland, birth place of the leprechaun, home to Bono, origin of my great great grandpa's wife's dog's old owner before it was rehomed to my great great grandpa's wife, and most importantly, inspiration behind what is quite possibly the greatest creation of the twenty-first century." Tony paused dramatically, before straightening up and meeting the Captain's eyes with an intensity that had only been seen a handful of times before from the man. "The Shamrock Shake."

As if on cue, the uplifting opening tunes of the Irish national anthem began to flow through the window and fill the room, surrounding Tony like air to his words. He stood proud and held out both hands, a satisfied smile on his face. "Any questions?"

-

It was no surprise really that Tony insisted on suiting up and flying above their float for most of the parade.

The team watched from their various positions around the living room with expressions varying from bored to curious to downright embarrassed on behalf of their team mate's behaviour.

Iron Man had so far resorted to such gimmicks as posing beside a paper mache Captain America with two metal fingers pointing in a gun at the fake Captain's head, shooting some of the larger floats out of the air to create a swirl of confetti that reigned down on the cheering crowds, and mobbing a McDonalds on the way by for his shamrock shake. Currently he lay sideways across the top of a giant floating Hershey Bar, helmet tucked under one arm while he chewed the end of the straw from his shake.

"Do we have to watch this?" Steve asked, glancing toward Natasha, who held the remote in her lap as she stared at the television screen. "All we're doing is giving him the attention he wants."

"I want to watch it," Natasha replied coldly. "I like to remind myself of why I'm going to be decorating his Ferrari downstairs with bullet holes."

Clint chuckled, and Steve looked to him hopefully. The archer was sat on the floor with his back against the couch, and seemed to be enjoying the spectacle Iron Man was putting on.

"Clint, surely you can see why this is damaging?" Steve said desperately. "Tony's behaviour will have severe repercussions for the team. How are citizens supposed to place their trust in a group of heroes who can't even keep one of their own under control?"

To Steve's dismay, Clint just shrugged a shoulder without taking his eyes off the TV and said, "If I thought 'Tasha wouldn't beat me for it, I'd be shooting shamrock hats off people's heads from the top of that giant Cat in the Hat."

From her position on the sofa with her head leaning sideways against a cushion, Natasha shrugged. "I don't care as long as you don't leave me to clean up after you."

"Nah," Clint said after a moment's thoughtful pause. "Too much paperwork."

All eyes went back to the television just in time to see a camera pan suddenly downwards to capture a blur of red and gold hovering backwards above the ground, looking mere seconds from a nasty collision. The camera followed as Iron Man hovered upwards, head turned to the left on something out of view of the camera. Silence filled the room as they all stared intently, unsure quite how to take it. Then a large green ball of energy hit Iron Man square in the chest, sending him crashing backwards into the ground, and everyone reacted at once.

Steve was on his feet straight away, rushing for the door to grab his suit and shield. Clint and Natasha mirrored each others movements, each grabbing weapons that lay against the walls of the room and exchanging nods before heading for the elevator. Banner, who had been dozing, was suddenly alert and staring wide-eyed at the television screen. He hurried out the door after Cap and shouted for Thor.

-

The Green Goblin couldn't have chosen a more appropriate day to unleash his new fancy weapon. Unfortunately for the Double G, Tony's equipment was still superior. The Goblin had a metallic blue gun, chunky and small, which shot bursts of green energy that fizzled out of existence before they even had a chance to hit Tony's armour. He hovered above the parade, the Goblin standing stoic on his glider opposite him.

"You know, you should really field test your weapons before you just go launching an assault like that," Tony said conversationally. "It makes things really awkward when the whole team comes to put a stop to you and you're already standing there with a broken gun."

The Goblin only made an incoherent sound that echoed around his helmet, managing to sound almost like a car backfire when it eventually bounced out and reached Tony, who laughed at the sound.

"Seriously, dude. I know you got the whole green thing going on, but this was really a bad day to come out."

The sounds of cheering from beneath them signalled the rest of the teams arrival, and Tony glanced down and back up at Green Goblin. "I'm gonna go back to my friends. You can go back to your little evil Goblin lair or whatever and maybe get a couple more rounds of ammo in that gun, then maybe come back and -"

A sudden blast hit Tony's left leg, and he dropped several feet before managing to regain his balance. He looked upward and wasn't surprised to see the Green Goblin pursuing him, glider tilted downward at an angle that should have had him falling face first onto the concrete below. Tony made a mental note to check out the mechanics of that glider later on even as he began a rapid descent towards the earth himself, eyes peeled for each individual member of his team. A flash of orange ducking behind a moving float caught his eye, and he headed towards it, Goblin close behind.

Seconds before landing, Tony felt something whiz by him, followed by a loud crash as the Goblin hit the ground. Curious, he dropped to a landing next to the float he'd been aiming for and turned to see what had become of his pursuer. A pile of metallic green in the middle of the path, with steam rising steadily from it and green lights flashing on and off. Huh.

Tony flipped up his mask and turned back again, a smile on his face. "You coming out from behind there, Capsicle?"

He was met with silence. Still grinning, Tony wandered around the back of the float, and forced himself to stifle the sudden laughter that threatened. Steve was crouched low, narrowed eyes fixed on Tony, in something of a parody of his usual suit.

The blue front had been painted a bright shade of powdery green, while the red stripe down the front was now a blinding glow-in-the-dark orange. The white bits had been left as they were, but even his gloves had been vandalized, with two small green white and orange flags sewn over them. Two horizontal strokes had been painted above and below the "A" on the front of his still-blue helmet, forming a chunky letter 'I'.

"Tony," Steve ground out, orange boots shuffling along as the float that provided his cover moved forward. "We are having a serious meeting about this when we get back."


End file.
